


It's always darkest before dawn

by taurussieben



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Keith finding himself, M/M, Magic, Vampires, Werewolves, all is very pg, minor roles for the rest, nothing really happenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taurussieben/pseuds/taurussieben
Summary: “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His voice barely carried out of his mouth, soft and broken. He said it over and over. Her hand on his shoulder gave him a short squeeze, but she didn’t dare to move otherwise.“I know, pumpkin, I know.”Keith is lost, but one night changes the course of life.





	It's always darkest before dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Well, my first story in a long long time, and the first time writing in english. This plot bunny just took hold and I could not let it go. So have fun.
> 
> Did some corrections, because grammar. ;)

Graceful, this was the one word needed to describe Aunt Allura. Keith loved to watch her. Her white hair in a perfect bun, the little permanent twinkle in her eyes, her dark glowing skin. Like a princess or even a goddess, she moved, with a poise fit for royalty, or what little Keith in the tender age of ten imagined as royalty. It was pretty clear, that she and he were not really related, his white skin and unruly black hair a stark contrast. But she was there as long as he could remember. Any memory before her consisted of feeling warm and hearing the sound of laughter, then only coldness and the dark of the night on a new moon.

Allura's house, his home, their home, was never cold. A strange house on the edge of the vast woods creeping along an enormous mountain range. The patio overlooked the tree line, the extensive garden in the back shielded anything from prying eyes. Aunt Allura had many visitors, at the strangest hours. Odd people, some gigantic, some tiny, some average with glowing eyes and moving shadows. Keith always thought them a trick of the light. The walls of the house were littered with pictures, photos, drawings, dried flowers, postcards and even letters, written words in languages and signs unknown to him. Allura called them offerings, Lance, another odd stable, crazy stalkers. The lanky man, with a wolfish grin, would sometimes come around, ruffle his hair and play with him. Keith was always a bit terrified of him, a sharp gaze, a smile with too many teeth, a predatory grace, so different from Allura's.

But even with the ever-present warmth of the ever going fireplace, Keith felt disconnected, lonely, not right there. On days and nights like that, he would find the one photo of his parents, a rough looking man, smiling, with his arm around a tall, muscular woman who held a little bundle in his arm. It was right beside the fireplace, in a corner, tucked between a bundle of dried forget-me-nots and the grainy picture of an old castle. The fire would warm his side, the red and orange flames would flicker in his periphery, while he sat with his knees drawn to his chest, catching every line on the picture and committing it over and over to his memory. He would fall asleep on the spot. Woken hours later by a tender embrace and a hand in his hair, carding softly. Like a spell would it calm his heart.

The times he felt lost, and out of it grew with every passing day. He tried to find answers in the many books which were stashed away in every nook and cranny, pushed against walls, under the stairs, under tables and chairs, or couches; books about myths and legends, fairy tales and the nature around them. But nothing that could answer the questions and unsteadiness he felt growing in his heart. He thought about asking his Aunt, but he feared she would find him ungrateful, thinking that he found fault living with her. He had nightmares about her sending him away, back to the cold and the blackness of a starless sky.

The kids in the school Allura made him visit called her a witch. Taunting him. Called her evil, called him a child of evil, a demon, unwanted, given away and abandoned by his parents. He would fight them back. But every time he returned with a split lip and broken knuckles, Allura twinkle would dim, and her lips turned down a fraction. She never called him out on it, but he saw the disappointment. He never told her, what the kids called her and him.

The night after he turned twelve he found out that the kids spoke the truth. Woken from another nightmare, he had crept through the house in search of Allura and the promise of a hot chocolate and a tender smile. What he found were an open basement door and strange lights. With a wild hammering heart he looked, and there she was, in between flying tools, colorful smoke, and dancing lights. Her hair all the colors of the rainbow, her face with deep lines, while she read in a book nearly bigger than her. Allura was a witch. The kids were right, so everything else they spoke of must be right as well, or? He did the only thing he could do at the moment, he ran. Out of the door, along the patio, down the small way, straight into the woods. In a night that changed everything.

Keith knew the moment he stopped running they would have him. His feet hurt, badly. His lungs generated only a wheezing sound, while he tried to fit in as many air as he could. A wolf cry nearby was not as far away as he would have liked, the sound of his tiny feet and his small body crashing through the underwood were accompanied by the faster sounds of running paws. He had no idea where he was running to, his sense of direction lost the moment he entered the woods. Allura always had made sure that he never got into them alone, either Lance or she herself walked with him, and never far. It was a dense forest, even in the heights of summer, it loomed dark and forbidding. Now, he let the forest guide him, a full moon brought silvery light fingers, illuminating an imaginary path. Nearly at the end of his strength, he broke free into a small clearing. He stopped dead in his tracks. Shimmering eyes slowly came closer, part of the pack had circled around and surrounded him. He spun on his axis, but there was no escape. The pack closed the ranks and slowly crept closer. No escape. His knees finally gave away, the last of his strength left him. Pressing his eyelids tight together he prayed for a fast death. Then three things happened at the same time, something wheezed past him, something heavy dropped onto his shoulder and voice he knew whispered into his ear. “Stay still.” His eyes blinked open. He found the gaze of his Aunt, sad, full of fear and also full of relief. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His voice barely carried out of his mouth, soft and broken. He said it over and over. Her hand on his shoulder gave him a short squeeze, but she didn’t dare to move otherwise.

“I know, pumpkin, I know.” Her mouth wanted to say more, but a loud snarl and a shorter whine snapped his eyes to the front. Between them and the pack stood a gigantic creature. The biggest wolf Keith had ever seen. One wolf lay dead to his feet, the other seemed to hold still between the wish to attack or to flee. A deep rumble, a growl that sounded like drums in the night echoed around the clearing, the wolves hovered for a second then ran. The three of them waited until the sound of the paws where only a distant memory before the strain left their bodies.

The massive creature huffed, it sounded like a laugh, then flopped down and yawned, showing an impressive set of teeth, which could snap Keith easily in half. Another huff and the shining blue eyes closed. Still too wobbly to actually stand Keith slowly crept forward on all fours. The eye of the wolf blinked slowly open, curious. Keith stopped, regarded him for a moment, then kept going. Everything was such a surreal scene at that moment. Keith expected to wake up at any given time, to find himself in his bed back at home, the first light of the day creeping into his room and over his bed, tickling him. Maybe it really was just another crazy dream. So there was nothing to fear, nothing. He raised his hand and buried them in the surprisingly soft fur.

“Thank you, Mr. Wolf.” The wolf made a wheezing sound, Keith could not quite interpret, a mix between indignation and a chuckle. Allura laughed in his back. Suddenly slender fingers were at his sides lifting him up, onto the back of the powerful body. Surprised he clung to the fur, Allura chuckled again and patted his knee. The wolf lifted his head a fraction, his eyes looked incredulous at Allura, she carded her hand in an apologetic gesture along the sensitive skin of his massive snout. His answer was a loud rumble that really was a sigh. Keith understood the wolf, nobody said no to Allura, she always got what she wanted, what that may be in this case. The riddle was solved as she returned to Keith and swung herself behind his back, as she got comfortable his eyes searched the tree line before looking up to the sky. A strange red hue between the tree line and the moon made him pause. First, he believed that the morning was already returning, but there on the outskirts half up the first mountain stood an old mansion, ablaze with lights, like a beacon in the darkest of nights. A touch to the back made him look over his shoulder. Allura studied his face, the old twinkle returned to her eyes. She brought her hands down on the side of his body, pressing her front into his back. Her hand patted the body under them, and with a deep sign the wolf stood up. And then he started running. They flew through the forest, nothing there to hold them back. Keith couldn’t help himself. He laughed, happily, bordering on hysterics. He got the impression that the wolf was pleased.

Not even a minute later there house came into view. Allura went down first and helped Keith. She kept holding his hand in hers. The fingers lay still against his night clammy skin. The wolf threw them a look, Allura laid as answer her hand on his snout. He took a few steps back, the muscles and the fur rippling, then he turned around and disappeared into the darkness of the woods.

A sudden wave of tiredness hit Keith, he balled his free hand into a fist, the pain of his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of the hand, a focus and a relief. There was the fear, that the moment he closed his eyes everything would just disappear. That the feeling of wrong and being disconnected would return, because here at this moment, everything felt just right, seeing the creature, the twinkle in Allura's eyes and the illuminated mansion resonated within him.

“Come.” With surprising strength, Allura lifted him up and propped him onto her hip. He wound his arms around her neck and buried his nose into her warm curls. The house was warm. With a kiss to his head, she set him down in the front of the still going fireplace. A blanket settled around his shoulder, and hot chocolate appeared out of thin air. The burning wood cracked lightly. A fire that was never going out, but in the throes of high summer. There was always fresh food, the house was always clean. Keith blinked. His eyes were searching for the pictures of his parents. The fire cracked again. Allura settled beside him, a hand on his knee, but her eyes on the fire. His heart beat faster. When he concentrated just enough he fancied himself feeling the low thrum of something else, something different. Something that could be called magic.

“Are you a witch, Aunt Allura?” His voice was small and soft. He just wanted to know the truth. She looked at him, he could see it out of the corner of his eyes. It compelled him to look at her. Her eyes shown with an inner light. They looked deep into the deepest part of his heart. It dragged everything out into the open, he felt exposed, broken up. He blinked. The light was gone, and Allura smiled. Her body shifted even closer, strong arms pulled him into her lap, and a cheek was pressed into his hair.

“Something like that, pumpkin.” The question, about what she meant by that bubbled under his skin, but sleep was not something to be evaded forever. It grabbed him firmly. Allura started to hum, a melody he never heard before. Gentle, like her fingers, soft, like her smile, warm, like her embrace. He slept and dreamed of the moon and the stars and a dark mansion reborn with new light.

*

“Will you let him keep the memories?” Lance's voice was still a bit rough around the edges, more like a growl than real human language. Allura looked down on the boy still sleeping safely in her arms, his face smashed into her side, drool slowly drying on her cloth. She smiled sadly.

“Yes.” She looked up and searched Lance eyes for a rebuff, the dim light together with his deep eyes gave nothing away. The gaze was steady, his own kind of soul searching, but he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing can be kept a secret forever.” He stalked forward and bent down to her to kiss her forehead. “I will talk to the others. We will keep away for a few days so he can adjust in peace.” His long legs took him through the room to the door.

“Thank you.” The smile she gave him was soft and warm. He turned around and hesitated.

“I’m not sure, what you want to tell him, but at least he needs to hear the story once.”

“I know.” She whispered. Lance looked back onto the small form in her arms. He nodded and returned into the dark wood, shielded from the morning sun.

*

The blinding light of the autumn sun woke him around midday, she was already beginning to sink low. He blinked, trying to find his bearings again. He was in his bed, in his room. Everything was as he left it the night before, the open book on the nightstand, a glass of water, his keepsakes thrown around. Was everything a dream? His body ached as he tried to sit up, his fingers and arms were full of scratches. So at least the run in the woods was not a dream. And everything else? A knock sounded. A heartbeat.

“Yes?” His voice sounded as small as he felt at that moment. Slowly the door cracked open. Allura poked her face inside and stopped on the threshold, she would never hesitate. It made him sad. He balled his hands into fists and threw her a smile, it was slightly shaky. But his Aunt understood. She moved carefully into the room, two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in her hands. That sight made his smile more sincere. Everything was turning out alright if hot chocolate was involved. Allura's cautious smile deepened at his look. She crossed the room carefully and held one mug out to him, it was topped with tiny marshmallows. He greedily grabbed it. Savored the warmth between his hands and the thick, rich smell that wavered around his nose and tickled in his nostrils. He took a careful sip, but Alluras chocolate was always right on temperature. He felt the dip on his left side as his aunt sat down.

Silence. Allura did not watch him, but her eyes roamed around the room, never lingering too long on something. Her smile turned fond.

“All the legends are true?” Keith was surprised he had spoken. That was not his plan at all, he worried his underlip, but Allura just laughed and turned her face to him. There it was, the damn twinkle. But inside Keith was glad.

“Nearly all. Some are truly the stuff of fairy tales and legends, but yes, some are true. And some are different than the folklore remembers them.” He shrugged a bit.

“So, werewolves?” Her smile became more open and warm.

“We were lucky last night. At the height of the full moon, they are the strongest. And he may be the pack leader, but a full pack of blackwood wolves is no easy enemy.”

“It’s Lance or?” She arched an eyebrow upwards. There was a question. “Just, it felt like him. And his eyes, it was Lance's eyes.” She nodded.

“Yeah, it was Lance.”

“I need to thank him than. It will embarrass him.” She boxed him lightly on the leg.

“Behave, pest.” He smiled and looked into the chocolate. The marshmallows swam around, slowly melting. He swallowed.

“I’m sorry, Allura.” She sighed. He dared to look up again, but she had turned her gaze to a point besides his head, frowning slightly.

“I’m sorry as well.”

“But-”

“No, pumpkin.” Her gaze settled on him again. “I should either have been more careful or told you already. Keep things hidden is never good and always leads to misunderstandings and heartache.” She patted his knee. “You must have been scared.” He looked down again. Two-thirds of the chocolate was already gone. He scrunched his nose in deep thought. There was something that had bugged him last night.

“I was, at first, but…” He stopped. Trying to clear the tangled mess in his head.

“But?” Prompted Allura gently.

“Now, things make more sense.” On his face bloomed deep wonder. Everything was falling into place, like pieces of a puzzle that was solving itself. All of them falling as they should be, and where they should be.

“What do you mean?” The tone was curious.

“I never saw you do housework, but the house is always clean, my clothes are always clean. But I never see or anybody else doing the washing. We never do groceries, but there is always food. And the fireplace is never going down. Never.” His eyes were big on her, vast and enthralling, all the wonders of his life seem to be reflected in them. Allura's answering smile was soft and full of love.

“I seem to have been less subtle than I thought I was.” She laughed. “Lance will have a field day with this.”

“What happens now?” There was fear in his voice and in his eyes. She could take it all away from him, he was sure. A word, a spell, a gesture maybe was all it took. She took the mug out of his hands and put it on the nightstand. She took his hands in her own.

“Nothing really happens now.” His eyebrows tried to disappear into his hairline. She chuckled softly. “I will answer questions you may have about things you see or have already seen, but besides that, nothing. There is not much more to change, that needs changing.” He nodded. A random thought popped into his head, hope filled him, maybe. He started grabbing her hands more tightly.

“What is it, pumpkin?” Would Allura be angry, if he asked the question? But why would she?

“Can- can I learn magic as well?” His eyes must have been big and full of hope. Most kids dreamed about doing magic, and now, knowing it was real, maybe he could also, maybe had finally a place he could belong to. But there was a sigh, and Allura looked sad.

“Oh, my sweet boy, I’m sorry, you need to be born with it. And regretfully you are not.” He nodded, he should have expected it, there really was no place for him, where he just could belong. “But you can help.”

“Really?” Excitement coursed through him.

“Yes, pumpkin, but you need to listen closely, and you will need to put extra effort into learning what I will tell you. This is very important. And also, no more fights with other kids.” He scrunched his brows, then pouted. But the prospect of learning what is out there, Allura teaching him and only him was more alluring than anything else, he would have promised to bring her the moon if she had demanded it.

“I promise.” She smiled. She shifted on the bed, leaning her back against the wall in their backs and stretching out alongside him. She gave him his chocolate back (still pleasantly warm) and took her own. And then she told him his first story. The soft voice painting the happenings before his inner eyes.

“A long time ago. There deep in the woods around us lived an old vampire. So very very old. Many times had he wandered the earth, the lands, and the sea. If he could, he would have wandered to stars, exploring further and further. Forever following the wanderlust deep in his heart. In search of something, he didn’t know of. Something, he couldn’t quite put his fingers on. Something, he very desperately craved, but could never name. It left a permanent ache in his heart and his very soul. After centuries he finally settled in one place, here deep in the forest. He thought, that maybe, that what he searched would come and find him instead. So he settled to wait, and wait. Another century turned, and nothing had come. So one night, he stood outside his home and begged. Begged the goddess of the forest, living in the woods around us, and the goddess of the moon above us, and the goddess of the sky, sheltering us, begged them to put him out of his misery. To bring him what his soul wanted most or to take him away. While he prayed and prayed, and begged and prayed, there was sudden sound and smell carried by the wind. Screams, the thundering sound of running horses and fire. The vampire stopped the praying and ran for his own horse, and in a wild dash he flew through the woods and found carnage. He found bandits and dead people. He killed them. Swiftly, full of rage. Innocent blood had been spilled on his lands, he would not forgive. Searching for survivors, he found a boy, deeply wounded, a near silent heart. He patched the wounds as good as he could, a nearby river and an intact bucket helped him to douse the fires before the forest burned down. He took the boy home, and after his guest slept silently but some bit safe, he returned and buried the people and the bandits. Then he waited. Again.” Keith furrowed his brows.

“What is it, pumpkin?”

“Don’t drink vampires blood? So why killing the bandits and not drinking from them?” It didn’t make sense for him. The thought sounded cold but didn’t the bandits deserve to die, and if they could help the vampire along, then it was a fair trade off, or? He was confused. Allura smiled.

“This is something the legends get wrong. Vampires are not dead. But they are magical creatures, powered by magic. Not magic to wield, and to do to their biding, but to keep them alive, so very much alive, guardians of the night. More comfortable in the shadows. Judges in the old courts.” She paused. “Their birthright was taken from them.” The words sound broken and small.

“Why?” whispered Keith.

“That story is for another time.” She smiled. “But remember there are creatures in the darkness, terrible creatures that will drink your blood and raise you from the dead. And now let us return to the vampire and the rescued boy.” Keith snuggled into the side of his aunt and let the smooth voice wash over him.

“It took quite a few turns of the day until the boy woke coherent enough, to understand where he was. He was weak and broken, but alive. And the instance their eyes meet for the first time, not clouded by fever and fear and panic and near death, the soul of the vampire shuddered.

The goddesses had made his prayer true. They saw into his soul, saw what he searched, what his heart craved, but he couldn’t name, because he never had it before, he never felt it. They had sent him a mate, they brought him, love. But no gift of a goddess comes without a twist. They were not cruel but bound by the very law they govern. The strings of destiny and fate can be stretched a bit, but not changed. They could speed things along and drag the strings into a different direction for some time, but in they still, need to bow to the laws. And so they could only send him what they found as he prayed because they liked him and their heart wept from his grave, deep ache in him. So, they could only send a young boy, no older than sixteen summers, who had been fated to die that very night. But he was too young to be a proper mate for the vampire, too young to really understand what the vampire wanted from him, needed from him, too young to be what he could be. The vampire never cursed the cruelty of it, never cursed the goddesses for the twist. He accepted it. Even thanked them for being able to finally name that what was missing.

He took care of the boy, told him the fate of his family and companions. Helped him through the grief. Weeks later, when the boy was stronger, he showed him the graves. The boy did not cry, all the tears already spent, but he thanked the vampire with a sad smile and sadder eyes. The vampire held him close and tight. Allowed the boy to find his balance again. The only time the vampire permitted it. As the season turned anew and the first leaves fell from the trees the vampire send him away. The boy was strong and healthy again, ready to return to a world, he yet had to see. It nearly broke both their hearts. But there was a promise, one the goddesses witnessed. In five years, to this day, when the boy wished to return he was allowed. And with a last smile and a lingering gaze, the boy turned his back and returned to his own world. The vampire waited. Five years turned into ten, ten into fifteen, into centuries. But the boy never returned.” Keith shuddered, sniffing slightly.

“Why? Why was the boy so cruel?” Allura raised one of her hands and wiped a few tears away.

“I don’t know, pumpkin, this is where the story ends.”

“But, what is the moral of it?” She drew him close and smiled into his hair.

“Not every story has a moral. There a many myth and legends we tell ourselves just because of the story itself. This tale, of the old vampire and his lost love, is one of the oldest we know. Every creature of the night and the day knows it. It’s one of our favorites, the bittersweet feeling for the vampire, makes our own heartache in a beautiful twist.”

“I don’t think I understand.” His voice was small and far away.

“Someday, you will.” They sat for a few minutes in silence as the sun sunk even deeper and nearly vanishing behind the tree line. Keith suddenly struggled out of Allura's arms and looked her into the eyes.

“Is it true? Is the story true?” A sudden image of an illuminated mansion in a dark night drifting through his mind.

“Who knows.” But Alluras gaze was distant and sad.

*

With the first snow, Allura's customers also returned. Wolves, and witches. Warlocks and fairies. Dwarfs and ghosts of old. Ancients beings and dragons deeply bound in human form, seemingly too large for the tiny creatures they impersonated. They all looked like humans, but frayed at the edges, if you dared to look deeper. Not quite right in the skin. Keith learned to see the truth in the shadows. Because even if they took on the mantle of a human, the shadows kept the truth. Slowly Allura eased him into his new duties. He learned to prepare lotions and salves, spices and teas. Everything which could be done, without the ounce of magic. She showed him where and when to collect herbs and mushrooms deep in the wood, accompanied by the wolves of Lances pack.

 

As yule turned around, he found the true meaning of is new found family. A giant bonfire in a snow-covered clearing, dancing creatures, eggnog and mulled wine, and spiced warm apple juice. Roasting meat and winter vegetables. Dancing fairy lights, laughter, and warmth. Music made by the wind, the smile of the goddesses. He drank it all in. Christmas had been a quiet affair, a tree with decorations, a present, and hot chocolate in the front of the fire. Not this, this was the true spirit. Dancing under the stars, the biting cold, and the blazing fire. He fell asleep in Allura's arms, deeply lulled by the rhythm pulsing through him.

 

Every customer that came gave him a gift, they told him stories. The wolves knew the most raunchy ones, accompanied by loud and husky laughter. The fairies spoke of the nature of love and the cruelty that came with it, smiling broadly, showing rows of sharp teeth. The dwarfs spoke of the ones that lurked deep below, formed by fire and stone. The ghost of old whispered of long lost things, nearly forgotten by everyone else. But the one story he could not forget was the one of the vampire and his lost love. On some nights it filled his dreams, followed him into the depth of his very soul. When he woke, it was to a tear-wet pillow and a deep ache in his heart.

*

The night after he turned thirteen he was woken. Blinking into the darkness, he tried to chase the dream, that left him gasping for air. But the memory was fleeting and soon evaporated into the reality. An orange hue drew his gaze. He stood up, shivering in the cold, but the view from his window was obstructed by the house itself, closing off the right side if the look. He put on the thick socks, gifted to him last winter by Allura, bright red, and put on a thick sweater from apparently the same wool. Silently he crept downstairs, not wanting to wake someone and asking what he was doing out of bed at this hour. He was not sure, he could answer, not sure what curiosity had taken hold in him. The fireplace still warmed the living room, gave him the same orange hue the strange light was casting into the night. As soon as he stood at the window, he found the source. The mansion, like last year, was illuminated by hundreds of lights. A beacon in the depth of darkness. As he studied the red shine, lost in the sometimes flickering and winking, Allura joined him, one hand slightly squeezing his shoulder. As he wanted to ask a question, and looked up at her, she just shook her head. So he remained silent, Allura drifting away at as the clock struck two. In the morning he woke up in his bed, not remembering to be falling asleep.

 The next night the mansion stayed dark.

*

The following summer, things did change. On the day of the solstice, he returned with a bloody nose and a black eye. His face scrunched together, and silent tears were flowing openly over his reddened cheeks. Lance, who was napping in the shade of the patio, let out a growl, showing his teeth. Keith stopped, rooted to the spot and in hiccups begging to believe her, that he didn’t fight back, and to please, please, not to take away his memories, or his home and to please, let him still live here with her. The answer he got, where strong arms around him and a hot fur body at his back. He was overheating and panicked, but the two steady heartbeats lulled into an exhausted sleep.  
He woke to a hand in his hair.

 “I’m sorry Allura, I tried to get away, they wouldn’t let me. Please don’t me mad, I know Lance was mad.”

 “Hush, sweet boy. Lance was not mad, not at you. He sees you as part of his pack, and somebody hurt you.”

 “Not at me?”, his voice was so hopeful.

 “Oh, pumpkin, we could never be mad at you.”

 “I can keep the memories, I can stay here?”

 “Forever.” And she was out of the chair she waited in and across the bed, to pull him into a tight hug. As they both had calmed, she drew back and looked into his eyes. Her gaze was serious.

 “Do you have any friends in school or the village, any connection to the world outside this house?” Keith shook his head, he never could make a connection to the other ones. It always felt like he didn’t belong there and they knew it, that he was an impostor, playing a role. Allura sighed. “Then I will take you out of the school, and we will teach you here and in the woods.”

 “We?” His aunt smiled.

 “You learned so much the last year, it is time to be taught the proper ways of the creatures of the night and day, and what it means to walk our path of living.” He swallowed, it sounded like a lot. Bur Allura just smiled and kissed his forehead.

 This was how he meet Hunk.

 “He is an Heinzelmännen?” Keith tried the word in his mind.

 “Heinzelmännchen?” He totally butchered the word. Allura tapped her lip in thought.

 “I think brownie would be a better word.” Keith's eyes bulged.

 “But he is so big!” Allura scratched her neck in a nervous gesture.

 “Hunk is… special.”

 

Hunk was easy-going, loud, but different loud than Lance was. Always an easy smile on his face or laugh, that came from deep within his belly. He taught Keith everything about food, and everything related to it, preparing, cooking, baking, buying, growing, searching, finding and surviving on as little as possible.

 

He also met the siblings Matt and Pidge.

 “What are they exactly?” Keith asked after the first lesson was over, and he was sitting down with Allura talking about what he learned.

 “Oh boy,” she said in a slightly annoyed voice. “I wish I knew, just tell me if they try to take over the world… again.” Keith's eyebrows shoot up.

 “Again?” But Allura just patted his arm and a few days later the lessons returned.

 The siblings, tutored or more tortured him in anything science and modern technology. Showing him a world as magical as magic itself but so different it was mind-boggling. They taught him about the stars and everything that lay beyond. A vast endlessness nobody was able to comprehend.

 

He already knew Lance. But he and his pack took him out into the woods, deeper than ever before, taught him how to run with the wind, to read the world around him, to always find his way, even in the deepest and darkest of the nights.

 

But the most fun was Coran, a warlock from old, who told stories like nobody else, with a script full of drama, different voices and sound effects and tiny animated figures.

He called them mentors and teachers, but in his heart, he called them friends. They showed him more patience than his teacher at school had done, would always ruffle his hair or tell him a story, from the worlds they were from. Would teach him about the wonders he could find in this world. About wicked monsters and merciful gods.

*

The night after he turned fourteen he never went to sleep. That day he had seen himself in the mirror, slightly older, a drawn face and hunted eyes. It was him and still not. It followed him through the hours until dusk was rising and it did not let him go. He sat on the patio, finding the mansion and its flickering lights easily. He sat there, with a hot chocolate bundled up in a thick blanked brought by Allura, and the warm wolf body of Lance pressed into his side. He watched as the lights went on, one after the another, and as they returned to darkness, slowly, winking out of existence as the first light of the new dawn crept over the mountains. Deep in his heart, he knew. But he was not ready to accept it yet.

*

Spring and summer of the following year taught him a different lesson. Again, a change was coursing through him and the world around. New feelings and thoughts invaded him, as he stole away with a boy from Lance's pack on a fresh spring day. It opened something in him, something he never knew was locked away. A hunger and a desire he never knew existed. It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time. It thundered through him and swept everything aside.

 Talking about it to Allura and by proxy with Lance filled him with apprehension. The knowledge he was still not ready to accept was still buried in his heart, and he felt like letting them down. Like he was throwing a wrench into their plans for him. Disturbing some grant scheme of destiny. But both had just smiled at him, softly, and wished him happiness. And to be careful. His face had turned bright red. Still, it brought him soft wandering fingers, sweet kisses and happy laughter running through the wood. It brought a new calm that soothed the ache in him.

 It also brought his first heartbreak. Shortly before the season turned to autumn, the boy said goodbye, leaving with other youngsters of the pack, trying to find their own path and their own pack. That night, Keith crawled into the bed upset and crying. When Allura came with hot chocolate and warm arms, he desperately needed to know.

 “Did you know?” His fingers were twisting into each other. A fast beating heart. “Did you and Lance know that he would happen? Is it because of that, that you accepted it?” Hiccups made it challenging to get the words together. Allura took his mug and put it on the nightstand beside them, before taking him more snug into her arms.

 “My sweet boy. Fate is not set in stone. Nobody can see the future or prevent time from flowing.”

 “But, in the story about the vampire, the goddesses themselves could not bow to fate.” Allura smiled. He could feel it on his skin.

 “That is still true, but he had his fate, and you have your own. And Lance and I, we don’t know what your fate will be. It could have been the boy, or it will be something or someone completely different. And while fate can’t be bend to suit our needs, it can change course, by the decisions you make. Like the goddesses did, in answering the vampires prayer.” She kissed his temple. “I can promise you one thing. We, not only Lance and me, but also Hunk and Pidge and Matt and Coran and all the others you have met, we all love you, and we only wish you happiness, wherever you may find it.” Keith snuggled deeper, tears again freely flowing.

 “I don’t know why I’m so upset. I mean, yes, I liked him, it was wonderful and with split mutually, but still-” H had trouble to breathe.

 “I know it hurts, pumpkin. Just let it out. Cry as much as need. I will be here.”

 And this how Keith said goodbye to his first summer love and learned that loving someone, can also be deeply unsettling.

*

The autumn brought not only another birthday celebration but also found him on the roof of the house watching the stars Matt and Pidge had taught him about, dreaming about faraway worlds and places. Every time he looked to the lights of the mansion, the ache in him grew. The lingering feelings from the summer, mingled with the story, he knew by heart. It resonated through him, burning away layer upon layer of denial. In the morning as he came down and breathed in the fresh air of the dawn, already heavy and crisp with the coming snow, he felt that something had shifted. In him, in Allura, in Lance. In everything around them.

*

The winter was the proprietor of yet another change. Following the run-in with another blackwood wolf pack, that painted red on white snow, and had Keith fighting for his life, they started to train him. Hand combat, sword fighting, handling of knives and daggers. He against Lances pack him against Lance, against Hunk, against Alluras Magic. Keith rose to the challenge, took it all, blossomed in it. His growth spurt set in, he developed muscles, he never had before. He stopped cutting his hair, tamed it into a braid. He settled into his body and his skin like he never had before.

 When he stood like that, proud and tall, ready to take on the world, Allura would look at him, and something would spark in her eyes, a recognition, gone in a moment. She never voiced what she thought she saw.

 The night before his sixteens birthday found him in his little working room, they had set up for him. A place he could mend his leather gear, sharpen his knives and daggers, work on his weapons, a space he could just tinker around. He was bowed over a sharping stone, taking care of his weapons with precise and careful strokes. Allura's presence settled in a chair beside him, waiting until he was finished. He could feel her breath entering and leaving her body, the blood running through her veins, the magic, that was fused with her body and spirit for all eternity and beyond. The combat training had born a new skill, a gaze inside. Not like Allura, but flesh and blood talked to him. He could taste the magic. He finished the dagger, put it aside and waited, watching Allura from the corner of his eyes.

 “Coming dawn, we will send you away.” He stilled. “It’s time to claim your heritage.” His gaze wandered out the window in front of them. The moonlight dancing over his work desk.

 “Why now?” His voice was rough with emotion.

 “It’s time.” She repeated. He looked over to her, her gaze already studying him. He was not sure what exactly she saw, but her eyes were sharp and sad at the same time.

 “Where are you sending me?” He could not keep looking at her. Something twisted inside him. His tracked the tree line. Searching for where the mansion would be, the lights would return tomorrow. Could he beg off another day? The ache settled into him. He waited. Allura didn’t answer right away but seemed to gather her thoughts. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see her wringing his fingers. Exhale. Inhale. Trying to slow down her heart. Exhale. Inhale.

 “As we took you in,” her voice was soft and hesitant, “as we took you in, I didn’t know at first. Then I was not sure.” She sighed and looked at him. “Your father was a human, you looked human, you behaved human. So we thought, this what you will be: human.”

 “But now?” There it was a sudden desire for knowledge burning through him. He needed to know. Who was he?

 “You took to our world, like a fish to water. You took everything in. Made it your own. Look at you. The knowledge is coursing through you, and not once did you shy away, not once did you show fear. Like you were always part of it, just got a bit lost on the way.”

 “Whom am I?” He clenched his hands to fists but still did not want to look at his aunt.

 “You are still Keith. But your mother was a hunter.” Keith paused. Sudden white noise filtered through his ears. Hunter. A fucking hunter. The one thing the creatures of night and day feared. Ruthless monsters. They hunted down everything and everyone without mercy. Driven through one wish: To eradicate them all. And he, he had their blood, his mother's blood. In flashes, the memories came unbidden. The truth in the shadows, his easy way to fight, drawn to daggers and knives, his love of the night, like fish to the water. Like a hunter to his prey. Allura reached down and lifted a small purse up. He was drawn to it. She opened the bundle, it held one single object, tightly wrapped in a black cloth. It had the form of a dagger. Allura put it between them. The sworn weapon of a hunter, bound to him and him only. He stared at it, willed it away. Willed himself to wake up.

 “Is this why you send me away? Because you hate me know?” He bowed his head, trying to make himself as small as possible.

 “Oh, pumpkin.” Even now, nearly sixteen, Allura would not let go of the endearment, and Keith was glad. “No, that is not why. We raised you. You are our beloved son. We know you would never harm us. And as always the nature of the hunters, as you know it, is only the half truth. Like with all the other legends and myth, the truth is more complicated. The dagger, the one you want to make disappear with your eyes, was once a gift from the goddess herself. Given to protect and to judge and not to mindlessly hunt down and kill.” She turned a fraction in her seat and took his trembling hands into her own. “It is true, that hunters have always hunted and also killed, but this is not their nature. They were given their gifts to protect the creatures of the night and day, and judge those who were a danger to them, sometimes it meant killing, sometimes capture and banishment. We are still not sure when the balance shifted, but when we noticed the truth it was already too late. Your mothers family is part of the old way, a den of hunters who wish to return to that path. They live in the Mountains of Marmora, deep in the Other Lands. Their leader Kolivan is willing to take you on and train you, to teach you everything he knows, about your heritage, about the world and about your family. These are things I can’t give you, so we need to send you away.” She stood and kissed his forehead. “As soon as the sun is out, you will be on your way.”

Her smile was small and sad. After she was gone, Keith took everything in. Everything was a jumbled mess in his head, so many things made sudden sense, and many more not. He looked outside, but dawn was still a few hours away. He gazed back at the dagger. He took it into his hands and opened the wrapping, revealing the black and purple instrument. Sharp, glinting and perfectly balanced like it was made for him. Maybe it was? He grabbed a sheath from his workbench, it fit perfectly. Putting the belt around his waist, felt right. He could quickly draw it and put it back like he had done it for years. In the corridor outside, he hesitated. Up the chairs, to his room and sleep would bring him a new adventure, a new world, maybe a family, at least people who were like him and also different. Was he still half human? Would it make a difference or was it all the same? But again, there was something else. He looked to the outside door.  
A manor in the night.  
A waiting vampire.  
An ache in his heart.  
A face like his but not his in the mirror every morning.

As he set his foot onto the patio, illuminated by the high moon, Lance big body peeled itself out of the darkness. Slowly trotting over and waiting patiently, with unblinking eyes.

 “Take me.”

*

They never stopped. Lance flew through the night, the rising dawn and most of the day. Dusk was already setting as they reached the mansion. Up a long winding road. Keith set down. He needed a moment to steady his shaking legs. They did not hold for a break. Lance commented his predicament with a huff.

 “Thank you.” Lance just shook his head and settled down in a patch of grass. He would not go further. There was not much love left between werewolves and vampires. They could tolerate each other, but they tended to go out of their way. Keith slowly walked near.

The massive gate looming in the distance, followed by the stones of the large manor, even more, majestic now, that he could make out more of the details. With the sun setting down, the lights sprang to life. Looming little fires, without something to hold them. Like will-o’-wisps without their careless nature. They raced down the way, over the gate, through the other side and set the manor ablaze. The shadows turned away and under the arc remained a lonely figure. Imposing, bigger than Keith thought he would be. A man. With every step, Keith saw more detail. White hear a scar across his nose, a three piece suite. The first person Keith saw wearing something like that in real. The man had a presence. Unbroken. But the eyes were the most surprising. Unbelievable soft. They settled on Keith. Something was flashing in them. It made him stop. A line not to be crossed. He knew what the vampire was searching, and he knew the answer.

 “He died before he could return.” His heart was hurting. “He knew, he promised, he wanted, he tried, but death would not let him.” After he said it, a sigh in the wind answered, a promised full filled, a soul laid to rest. The vampire's gaze became even softer. Sad.

 “Thank you, keeper.” He bowed his head a fraction. “But I’m curious how a hunter became a keeper.” Keith just shrugged, uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny. The vampire cocked his head to the side. Like he was trying to solve a problem. “You are Allura's ward.” Keith just nodded. “I see.” He turned to go. Something Keith could not let him do. Nobody should be that lonely.

 “Can I return?” The vampire stopped in his motion. He looked at Keith, surprised, his brows drawn together. More scrutiny, like Allura ones, did, looking deep, searching for a reason, a deception. And Keith opened himself up. Sharing his own loneliness, the ache, that even now was not completely gone. It must have been the right thing because a light flickered on in the eyes of the man.

 “I will tell you the same, I told him once. In a few years, you may return, if you still desire.” A smile broke out on Keith's face.

 “How long?” The vampire suddenly laughed, a deep rumble so different from Lance and Hunk. It made his heart do strange things. The man before him put his hands into the pockets of his pants and suddenly was so much younger. A mischievous smile broke out.

 “In ten years.”

 “But-”

 “When Kolivan and the Blades have taught you everything you need to learn, little hunter. Live Keith. See the world. And if then you still wish to return, you know where to find me.” The lights blinked slowly out, the sun creeping over the horizon. Soaking the night in a fainter light.

 “What is your name?” Another laugh, nearly faint in the wind.

 “Call me Shiro.” Keith blinked, and Shiro was gone. The manor was dark, the iron gate closed.

 The new light of the day broke over the horizon.

 

Epilogue

 

“Allura, didn’t the message say, Keith would be returning today?” Lance leaned in his human form against the door, tracking the oncoming of the night. Allura always found it odd, how his wolf body and human form where so different from each other. But she loved both of them. She chuckled, her eyes searched the horizon and settled on a mansion already ablaze with hundreds of lights. Lance followed her gaze and groaned, but the corner of his lips was curved up. Hunk laughed from the kitchen and Pidge, also settled on the patio, threw something at him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was.

 “How long did it retook Keith, to convince Kolivan to give him Shiros address?”

 “Five long years and both would not stop complaining about it to me.” She fondly shook her head. “Especially after Shiro took a month to reply to that first letter. Idiots all three of them.”

 “And now…” Lance slightly drew his brows together. Allura raised her hand and used her thumb to smooth them out again.

 “And now, the story has finally an ending.” Her smile turned even softer. Lance encircled her in his arms.

 “A hopefully happy one.”

 “Indeed.”

*

The shining lights of the manor welcomed him home. Embracing him like a long lost lover. Soft and warm. But the fingers on his cheeks and the gaze into his eyes were even sweeter.

 “Welcome home, Keith.”

“Glad to be back, Shiro.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and kudos are always welcome


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